


Captain December

by VincentMeoblinn



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, M/M, Medical Kink, Mutual Masturbation, Oral Sex, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-21
Updated: 2013-12-21
Packaged: 2018-01-05 09:45:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1092451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VincentMeoblinn/pseuds/VincentMeoblinn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p> Sherlock finds a calendar in John's room in which he's wearing little more than a stethoscope and his tags...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Captain December

  
 

It was wrong. It was wrong on so many levels because it was _John_ and he was his _flatmate;_ and even if Sherlock were a bit fuzzy on social protocol, he was fairly certain that wanking to your flatmates twenty-something year old nude photo, in his room, on his bed, was probably right up there in the ‘damn it Sherlock, how could you do that?’ section of John’s vocabulary. That assumption, however, didn’t mean that Sherlock could _stop_ himself.

 

It had started out fairly innocently. Sherlock was searching John’s room for his new password. The man had started locking his computer using random digits, but he kept them written down because he couldn’t recall them. Sherlock had been looking through books in a box when he’d come across a nearly twenty-year old army calendar. He’d wondered why the man would keep such a thing, and then decided it might be like a Bible in some people’s homes, and had flipped it open to search for hidden papers and cash. What he’d found was twelve months of the sexiest men of the 5th Northumberland Fusiliers. John was December and he was decked out in nothing but a stethoscope-which had been manipulated into a bow and was propped between his thighs beneath his erection and heavy bollocks- dog tags, and a saucy wink.

 

Sherlock had thrown himself down on John’s bed, pinned it to his wall using a conveniently placed tack, and started wanking. He was nearing orgasm when his mobile went off somewhere around his knees. Worried it might be the object of his current toss off, Sherlock reluctantly released his dick and checked the message; he’d been right, it was John.

 

**You were supposed to be here 20 mins ago. Where are you? –JW**

**Bed. –SH**

**Well get in here, you need that physical done today or Lestrade won’t allow you to keep going to scenes. I don’t want to here about it when you get BORED. The clinic is about to close. –JW**

_Shit! The physical!_

 

Sherlock groaned in sorrow over his wasted erection- he masturbated so rarely and had been looking forward to the culmination- and hurriedly, but carefully, tugged his trousers over himself. He was about to head downstairs when he recalled the calendar. He snatched it up and tossed it into his own room before hurrying out the door. 

When Sherlock reached the clinic there were no cars in the lot and he worried that John hadn’t been able to get someone to stay behind to examine him. John was standing at the door, still in his jacket, with the keys in the door. He let Sherlock in with a scowl.

“Everyone else is gone. It’s highly irregular, but it will have to be me who does the exam or you’ll have to wait until after the holidays.”

“No good. There’s always a spike in murders between Yule and New Years.”

“And there’s always a spike in clinic visits and a drop in doctors. Second door on your left. Everything off.”

Sherlock wrapped himself in the ridiculous paper outfit and waited for John to knock and then come in. He was surprised to see the man being so official. He barely made eye contact as he reviewed Sherlock’s chart, guided him through an eye and hearing exam, and washed up for the physical exam; unusual in that he rarely ever took his eyes off Sherlock during cases and sometimes not even at home.

Sherlock found himself irritated at the lack of attention and… oddly aroused at John’s clinical behavior. His mind flitted back to the calendar and he began to harden. John examined him quickly and professionally, looking at moles and examining his glands. When he got to the testicular exam John politely pretended Sherlock’s throbbing erection was non-existent. Then came the part Sherlock had been dreading, as he’d never had anything inside his rectum before.

“Step down to the floor, turn around, and bend over the table, please,” John instructed, changing gloves with an audible _snap_ which went straight to Sherlock’s cock, “Bit of cold, some pressure, and you might feel a slight burn.”

Sherlock bit his lip as John stroked his entrance for just a second and then slipped his entire finger into him in one smooth, latex glide. Sherlock’s back arched of it’s own accord and John’s hand on his shoulder firmly pushed him back down.

“I know it feels a bit odd, but it will be over shortly, the less you move the faster I’ll… Sherlock, _hold still_.”

_There’s the irritated John I know_ , Sherlock thought as he wriggled a bit more.

John’s finger was doing something to him that Sherlock hadn’t thought was actually possible. He was hard and leaking and if John prodded _just a bit more_.

John’s finger withdrew and the man sighed in frustration, “I know it’s unpleasant, but it’s _necessary_. Take a few deep breaths and we’ll try again.”

_Oh, gods, yes!_ Sherlock thought and settled against the table in pretend obedience.

When John’s fingers slipped in they located Sherlock’s prostate immediately and he gasped and jumped in surprise, his bollocks drawing up eagerly. Just as quickly John’s finger was gone and Sherlock stifled a groan.

“I don’t think you did that properly,” Sherlock stated firmly.

John chuckled, “That’s what they all say. I assure you, it was completely proper and nothing felt off so…”

“No, I mean I don’t think you _found_ it.”

“Sherlock…”

“John, this is _important_. I had an uncle who died of prostate cancer,” Sherlock lied guiltlessly.

“Oh, that’s a bit different,” John replied, “If you really want me to take another look…”

“Yes, I do. Get on with it,” Sherlock replied impatiently.

John’s finger slid back in and Sherlock’s eyes rolled into the back of his head as he thoroughly stroked around the p-spot that was driving Sherlock wild. Sherlock tasted blood and suddenly realized he’d been biting his lip.

“Completely normal, but we’ll take another look in a year or so, okay?” John reassured, slipping his finger out once more.

“Damn it, John, are you incompetent at everything?”*

“Sorry?!” John stammered.

“You still _missed it_. Don’t they train you in this sort of thing in medical school?” Too late Sherlock realized how breathy his voice was. He bit his lip again, wondering if fleeing the room would be cowardly.

Instead of responding John slid two fingers into Sherlock and began stroking his prostate in earnest. Sherlock was shaking with the effort to keep himself still and John stroked a soothing hand along his hip.

“Shhhh, it’s fine. It’s all fine, Sherlock,” John whispered, and spread his fingers a bit before stroking around his prostate again.

A moan tore out of Sherlock’s throat and he gave up pretenses to thrust back on John’s invading digits. When John slid a third finger in Sherlock gasped at the burn, but the pain quickly vanished as he continued to bring him closer and closer to the pinnacle. Then John’s fingers all vanished and Sherlock swore in frustration. He’d been _right there!_

John walked across the room and rifled through a drawer while Sherlock gasped and tried to get his halted brain to think up a way to get John back inside of him. Then John turned around and Sherlock blinked at him in confusion as he opened his coat and undid his trousers. The detective watched nervously as John slipped a condom on over his own, slightly curved erection. John was a bit smaller than Sherlock, though not unimpressive, yet Sherlock still felt a moment of panic as the man stepped behind him again. He could hear the squelch of lubricant and then he felt the blunt head of John’s cock press against him.

Sherlock’s enthusiasm wilted a bit, as he felt that bulbous tip press through the first ring of muscles, but John soothed his hip gently again and Sherlock took a deep breath and relaxed. Then he felt John’s cockhead slip past _that spot_ and he was once again hardening and panting. He felt as though he were starting off right where he left off, fit to blow his load the second John touched that spot again, but as the man began to thrust shallowly Sherlock found he wasn’t as near to climax as he’d thought.

John moaned softly behind him and pressed in deeper with each thrust until he was balls deep in Sherlock. Only then did he pick up his pace and Sherlock gasped as their bollocks slapped together beautifully. Sherlock was soon pressing back to meet him, grunting as he chased his release.

Sherlock felt John’s cock begin to swell inside him and whimpered at what that meant. At the same moment he felt John’s lubricated and still gloved hand wrap around his cock and stroke him twice from base to head in time with his thrusts. That was all it took and Sherlock was gasping through the most intense orgasm of his life, vaguely aware of John _growling_ sexily as he blew his load into the condom. They both paused a moment to pant and collect themselves and then John slipped free and disposed of the gloves and condom in the medical waste bin after tying it off.

Sherlock stood up, feeling too damp and stretched to sit comfortably, and gave John what he hoped was a composed smile. John grinned back at him shamelessly.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do that. Why the _hell_ didn’t you just tell me you had a medical kink? You didn’t have to go through all the trouble to set this up. I’d have _gone_ with it. I mean, you guessed my sexuality months ago.”

“Bisexual? Obvious,” Sherlock snorted, “John ‘Not Gay’ Watson, I figured that out _years_ ago.”

“Then why all this? Was Lestrade a part of it? I thought that exam order was stupid but…”

“There was no set up,” Sherlock frowned, “Lestrade really demanded I get a physical. I am also unaware of having a ‘medical kink’, whatever the hell that means.”

“I thought… you were staring at my stethoscope and… the gloves…”

“You’re attractive,” Sherlock shrugged, “Could we do this again? If I was aware of how much more satisfactory anal sex was compared to masturbation I’d have instigated it with you quite some time ago.”

“I… well, yeah, but…” John looked baffled as he got his clothing situated, “I suppose I still have to draw your blood, then…”

“No wonder you’re always chasing women down,” Sherlock continued enthusiastically, “Is vaginal sex that satisfying? For the man, I mean. I’ve read before that…”

“Sherlock, haven’t you been with a woman?” John asked, his eyes widening in apparent alarm.

“No, of course not. I told you when we met: not my area.”

“But you just said you’d never experienced… you meant from the bottom, right? You’ve never bottomed before?”

“That means received penetration anally?”

John nodded mutely, his face going pale.

“No, I’ve never done. Why?”

“Bloody hell, Sherlock…” John sagged down into a stool and looked… guilty?

“What’s wrong? Did I say something off again?” Sherlock wondered how he’d managed to bollocks up a shag since even _Anderson_ managed those.

“No, you didn’t… this is my fault, not yours. I should have… bloody hell, Sherlock, if I’d known it was your first time I’d have… I dunno, made it special or something! Not just rogered you over a table in a cold office!”

Sherlock blinked, “What, like wait till after prom?”

John paused and then burst out laughing while Sherlock grinned a bit.

“Yeah, okay, I see your point. Not a 16 year old girl, then.”

“Not hardly, no,” Sherlock smiled, “Besides I don’t see how it could get any more ‘special’ than having my first time with my best friend.”

John stopped laughing and gave Sherlock a touched smile. Sherlock had only been being honest, but seeing that look on John’s face sent flutters through his body.

“Thank you, Sherlock,” John stated firmly, “It was an honor, and yes, I’d like to do that again: properly, on a bed. For now, though, you probably want to get dressed. I’ll leave you a moment to clean up- there are some wipes there- and get dressed and then I have to draw a bit of blood.”

Sherlock nodded and John left the room to give him some privacy. Sherlock took a moment to explore his own anus, however, since it was already stretched and hadn’t quite closed up yet. Once his curiosity was a bit sated he cleaned up, dressed, and was waiting comfortably when John came in with his mobile to his ear.

“Yeah, yeah, he’s here now. I know. Look, the sooner I get off the phone with you the sooner I can finish up. Uh, huh. I swear to you, it’s getting done!” John looked at Sherlock and rolled his eyes, “Honestly, you don’t have to babysit us on this one. It’s practically done now. I just have to draw his blood… yeah, a bit weird, but we’re flatmates it’s not like I haven’t seen him naked before… fine… bye… Bloody Lestrade up my arse about your physical.”

“I wondered what was taking you so long,” Sherlock replied.

“Sorry. Thai after this?”

“Mm, no, in the mood for Italian.”

“Angelo’s?”

Sherlock nodded agreement and as soon as John had the vials marked and packed up in the fridge for the next day’s pickup they headed out.

Angelo made his usual fuss over them and insisted on bringing and lighting a candle for their ‘romantic’ night. This time Sherlock beamed when he did it and looked expectantly at John who… looked uncomfortable. Well, that was a bit not good.

“Did you want to tell him we aren’t dating? Because it’s fine if you…”

“Are we?” John asked with his insecurity painted all over his face.

“If you like,” Sherlock shrugged, “But you already know how infrequently I eat.”

John grinned and his entire body seemed to relax at once. He practically sagged in the seat.

“Good, yeah. Perfect,” John replied happily, and it was.

For the next several months nothing really changed for them. John and Sherlock still fought, still laughed, still ran about on cases, and still drove Mycroft mad. Now they just had the added bonus of coming home and shagging on occasion. After a bit John hesitantly mentioned that Sherlock wasn’t nearly as interested in sex as he was. Sherlock agreed and John even _more_ hesitantly asked if Sherlock minded if John dated other people while still dating him.

“You mean you aren’t already? I’d assumed that’s where you’d gone last week. Out with that waitress who slipped you her number.”

John blinked in shock, “No! I threw it out! I went out to _sulk_ that night because you turned me down when I was randy!”

“Bit thick of you,” Sherlock snorted, “I believe I recall it if you’d like the number again. I kept it just in case I needed to reach you and just haven’t deleted it since.”

“Hell yes, she was bloody hot!”

At which point things continued even more as they had before, but now when a girlfriend demanded he choose her over Sherlock, John firmly reminded them that Sherlock was his first choice. He still got slapped just as often, but now he did it with someone to go home to. Eventually he settled into a steady relationship with a client who was more open minded than his previous girlfriends and she moved in with them fairly quickly. It took Sherlock a week to notice.

It was another two years before Sherlock brought up what had turned him on so much that night in the clinic. When he mentioned the calendar, which John had failed to notice was missing all this time, he’d laughingly told him he’d forgotten about it and had him bring it out. Sherlock sat on the couch with his head on John’s shoulder, lazily stroking his cock, while John told him filthy stories about each man in the calendar. Mary had her head on John’s other shoulder, but knew better than to try anything with or in front of Sherlock. He was utterly repulsed by women. Mary, however, loved to watch and played with herself beneath a blanket while John and Sherlock fucked fast and hard on the couch. Afterwards John crawled beneath the blanket and Sherlock settled into an experiment while John performed noisy cunnalingus on an equally noisy Mary outside of Sherlock’s peripheral vision.

Life seemed ideal to Sherlock, who watched a satisfied and proud John walk half naked through the kitchen to down some milk straight from the carton. Sherlock, thankfully, wasn’t squeamish about contact with John after his activities with Mary since he knew her sexual history and that she was monogamous with John. Otherwise he’d have been furious about the milk.

“John? Are you happy?” Sherlock worried.

“Why, aren’t you?” John asked, concern on his face as his voice quickly dropped, “Is it Mary? You’re still first, you know; say the word and she’s gone.”

“No, she’s fine. She doesn’t annoy me like other women do. Are you _happy_?”

“Yes. Blissfully happy. I’ve got my cake and I’m eating it, too… _ala mode_! Are _you_ happy.”

Sherlock thought a moment. He looked down at his experiment, then up at John’s anxious face, then to Mary watching telly in the sitting room- blissfully unaware they were discussing her fate.

“Yes, I think I am.”

“You sound surprised.”

“I never thought I would be,” Sherlock replied, carefully putting down the flask and pipette he’d been holding, “I never thought it was something I wanted, needed, or knew how to get and keep. Can I keep you, John?”

“Of course! Gods, I’m _yours_ Sherlock Holmes!”

“And Mary?”

“She’s less yours than mine, but I suppose she’s sticking around. You sticking around Mary?” John called.

“Long as you’ll both have me,” Mary replied, turning off the telly and heading in, “Something wrong?”

“Sherlock’s having a human moment.”

“One of those? I’ve never seen one before!” Mary replied, giving him a curious look.

“You’ve missed it, I’m afraid,” Sherlock replied, then picked up his pipette and flask and started back up on his experiment.

He ignored their laughter, but once they were well out of sight he smiled to himself contentedly.

 

What the hell is wrong with my Word program? This is what it thinks is correct: “Damn it, John, is you incompetent at everything?”

Then it tried to change cunnalingus to candies. FML.

Seriously?! See folks, I’m not as bad at grammar as I seem. It’s my program!!


End file.
